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The Grateful Dead – The Best Of The Grateful Dead Es gab mal eine Zeit in meinem Leben, ich war etwa 18 oder 19 Jahre alt, da... The post ... mehr auf diekopfhoerer.de

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space I spent years in booze’s blackest forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading U... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space You sing about loss: I am lament. Comb your blues with my black throat, in meters that have no feet to wind the moody shade. Your songs are suitors: you lured Persephone from her loom, Cerberus bawled for his … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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No matter a man's status, everyone will stand before the throne of judgment. Continue reading →... mehr auf 4thlink.wordpress.com

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space She came to me out of some emerald of wave urban night, dripping black girders and neon rain streets, a vision icily candescent, the most beautiful X chromosome to date. A blonde Higgs boson whose charm danced both too … Continue reading U... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space There is a stillness to places where the dead are buried which tells us breath is a theft which air returns to purity, the meandering water now sea, our nightly round in dreams stopped in its revolving door. Dun … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space I’m learning to write the way I always yearned to play piano. Not the upright in the family parlor that I banged on trying to read sheet music for a year.  Nor the spinet in a college rehearsal room when … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space Alone he roamed the Hyperborean North And wandered along the snowy banks of the Don Or through the barren frozen fields on the sides Of Piphean mountains, in grief for his lost wife And Hades’ empty promise. — Virgil, … Continue reading U... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space I spent years in booze’s black forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  You’re still on that island, I know, your t-shirt still sweaty from your last bright springtime run, your eyes still blue as the sky which no longer oceanned you. You are that sunny rock because Salem by the time … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  The renewal’s out there in a great wide haze lingering in deep night like the world’s own shade or ours—who can say—black and void except where the streetlights delve it, or a passing car, a lingering width of fume … Continue reading &... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  Tonight, thank Heaven, Your hand is close,even heavy on my brow. Has it been that long?Like a mineshaft is History, deep and cold; all our past lives labor somewhere in it, hearingthrough the wall the voices of distant singersfrom … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space He’s a bit of every one of us who failed to come back from the Great War. Observe how he was assembled from the charnel loam of Passchandaele: torso of the Brit picked off barbed wire, hand of Boche … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space She came up from the sea of night to teach me her wet druidry. “Here is Womb,” she rasped through a larynx of gale, pointing to the sea inside her scales. “The water of birth and firstness, blue glitters … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com